


let silence resound

by quartzguts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Episode Ardyn Prologue, Gen, Retrospective, no happy ending for our stupid beautiful boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzguts/pseuds/quartzguts
Summary: Somnus remembers it well; the squelch of his sword through his brother's chest, blood pooling under his feet. The dying rays of sun, casting long shadows behind the two corpses lying crooked on the ground beneath him.Somnus closes his eyes and breathes carefully. It was glorious. Utterly glorious.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia & Somnus Lucis Caelum
Kudos: 14





	let silence resound

“Tell me about the place,” Somnus asks.

His high commander, a stern man in his fifties who served his father for many years, bows. Somnus tries not to let the pleasure show on his face. “The island our scouts discovered is visible from the shoreline, but requires a seaworthy vessel to access. It is devoid of all plants and animals. The entrance is somewhat narrow, but the interior cavern is more than large enough to contain Lord Ar —I mean, Adagium.”

Somnus tilts his head up, looking down on the man through narrowed eyes.

“Your Majesty,” the high commander amends.

Somnus decides to forgive him without further reprimand. Establishing a kingdom is no easy feat, and no ruler has used the title  _ your majesty _ since Ifrit ruled Solheim several centuries ago. “How quickly can that monster be transported?”

The rest of his council, most of them vassals and priests, shift uncomfortably. Somnus nearly rolls his eyes. Gilgamesh’s grip on the back of his chair tightens ever so slightly, the wood splintering under his armored fist.

“Our men can be ready to leave by tomorrow morning,” the high commander says.

“Good. The sooner the better. You’re dismissed.” The high commander bows before taking his leave. A few of the more vocal council members begin whispering among themselves. This time, Somnus  _ does _ roll his eyes.

“Your Majesty,” Gilgamesh murmurs. “It would be in your best interest to quell any dissent before Adagium’s departure.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Somnus sighs. He stands to address his subjects; best to appear large and powerful to discourage any argument, like a cat raising its hackles.

“My Lord… Your Majesty,” one woman begins. “Is it really necessary to go to such measures—?”

“The monster who currently lays imprisoned in the dungeons is no longer my brother,” Somnus says firmly. All the whispers cease instantly. “His mind and body have been twisted by the scourge. As much as it  _ pains _ me to say, he is a threat to the peace and safety of our people.”

The woman who dared to address him directly bows her head. The man sitting next to her declines to follow her wise example. “We understand, Your Majesty, but Lord Ardyn healed a great many people. There is unrest in the countryside where he lived for much of the past ten years.”

“That beast is  _ not  _ ‘Lord Ardyn,’” Somnus snaps. The pallor that falls over the man’s face is exhilarating. “The sooner the people understand this, the better. I expect all of you to address this in your fiefdoms, or I will replace you with someone who can.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the council choruses. Somnus’s eye twitches at the way they look at each other, nervously discussing their predicament in silence.

“If I may speak.” Gilgamesh steps away from his place at Somnus’s back. “A show of the threat Adagium poses may be sufficient to assuage any remaining public uncertainty.”

“Are you suggesting letting him run loose?!” the woman who moments ago defended Ardyn shouts. It shakes Somnus sometimes, how irresolute common people can be.

“Indeed, Gil,” Somnus says, lounging back in his throne. He grins at his shield—even below that ridiculous helm he insists on wearing at all times, Somnus can tell his old friend is at the end of his rope. What’s the harm in pushing him a little more? “We can’t have him reigniting the plague just after we’ve contained it, can we?”

“I am suggesting nothing of the sort,” Gil says, his words clipped. “Merely that Adagium has been largely incoherent and violent since his imprisonment. If we give the public an opportunity to view him in such a state, doubtless they will abandon him.”

“An interesting proposal,” Somnus says. Bringing his once lofty brother down to the level of a caged animal has its appeal. “See it done. Meeting adjourned.”

And that’s all he needs to say; Gil or his vassals will take care of it, and someone will inform the high commander. Somnus is giddy with how different the power of kingship is to military leadership. As commander of an army, he spent hours considering the intricacies of each decision, worrying over details well into the night. Now he merely needs to speak a command and his servants finish the rest of the work for him. Most of the time their work is sufficient; if it isn’t, Somnus just has them disposed of. Easy as pie.

“You look pleased with yourself,” Gilgamesh says after the council has gone.

Somnus chuckles. “It was your idea, Gil. It’s a good one, too. Ah, for Ardyn’s beloved peasants to catch sight of him now… That’s something I’d love to see, if only.”

“You won’t be attending the public shaming, then.”

“Why should I? I’m done with that creature. He concerns me not.” Somnus stretches languidly. It’s been a long day of planning invasions and dealing with petty common complaints. Perhaps a nap… “Are you going to go see him?”

“Yes,” Gil says. “As I have seen him each and every day since your coronation.”

“I don’t know why you bother. There’s not much to see anymore.” Somnus remembers it well; the squelch of his sword through his brother's chest, blood pooling under his feet. The dying rays of sun, casting long shadows behind the two corpses lying crooked on the ground beneath him.

Somnus closes his eyes and breathes carefully. It was glorious. Utterly glorious.

“He’ll need to stay here for another few weeks to give people time to travel and see him,” Gil says. “You still have a chance, Som.”

“To do what? Spit on him? Draw a portrait of his bloody maw?” Truth be told, Somnus has no idea if his face is still bloodied or not. He hadn’t ordered Ardyn be given a bath, let alone any water. It’s possible one of the jailors has taken pity on him and cleaned him up. Even Gil might have passed him a soaked rag through the bars of his cell.

Somnus hasn’t visited the dungeons since Ardyn was interred there, so he wouldn’t know.

“The island is isolated and difficult to sail to. After Adagium is interred there, access to it will be strictly forbidden. You’ll have your royal duties to attend to as well.” Gil’s fingers slip back into the divots he made in Somnus’s throne. Once, years ago, he might have grabbed his charge’s shoulder instead, and given him a comforting squeeze. But Somnus is king now, and no one, not even his shield, may touch the king without permission. “If you don’t go to him now, you’ll never see him again.”

“Has it occurred to you that I don’t  _ want _ to see him?” Somnus snaps. “That perhaps I’m tired of his incessant charity work, his moral pandering? I’m a grown man, Gil. I no longer cling to my brother’s sleeve.”

Gilgamesh’s soft snort sounds distorted through the mouth guard of his helmet. “With all due respect, sire, you seem no older now than you did at twenty. Or ten, for that matter.”

“Oh, get out,” Somnus says, and Gilgamesh goes. He sits in his throne room alone as the sun sets, casting a rust colored glow through the windows. Far beneath him, in the dungeons, he imagines Ardyn sitting on the floor cross legged, drinking tea out of a dirty old cup as Gilgamesh says his goodbyes. When Gil apologizes, Ardyn smiles the way he always does when he's hurt. It's an expression Somnus knows well—closed eyes, tight lips, cheeks without color. He'd seen it each of the many times he'd messed up and gone grovelling before his brother, asking forgiveness.

Somnus idly summons his armiger, admiring the collection of blades within. His favorite sword twinkles in the light of the dying sun.

A king does not ask forgiveness.

A king moves forward always, no matter what he has to leave behind.


End file.
